


The Slog

by Merkwerkee



Series: Being Bruno Hamilton [16]
Category: Masters of the Metaverse (Web Series)
Genre: Vietnam War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:03:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27645223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merkwerkee/pseuds/Merkwerkee
Summary: When a buddy gets hurt while on mission, Bruno gets elected to carry him back by virtue of being 6' 4" and built like a brick shithouse
Series: Being Bruno Hamilton [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643020





	The Slog

Bruno paused for a moment to resettle the heavy weight over both shoulders before continuing on.

Tunstall didn’t miss the pause, and glanced over with a raised eyebrow once Bruno had fallen back in line. “Is he gettin’ too heavy for you?” He asked, with a nod to the unconscious body of Sergeant Amos Graves that Bruno had slung in a fireman’s carry.

Bruno shook his head. “Not as long as I keep him balanced,” was his swift reply, and Tunstall nodded before falling back a few steps to bring up the ‘rear’ of their impromptu column. In truth, Bruno wasn’t sure what he’d’ve done if the answer had been affirmative; Tunstall had salvaged what he could from Graves’ kit and carried that as well as half of Bruno’s kit. In terms of weight, he wasn’t hauling that much less than Bruno - and it was still another ten miles to their extraction point.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, the dim shadow of Weber dipping in and out of the jungle ahead of them. Tunstall had given him a minimum amount extra to carry and had ordered him to scout ahead; with both Bruno and Tunstall carrying more than twice their usual loadout in weight, neither of them were capable of much in the way of stealth. It was Weber’s job to find and intercept threats long enough for one or both of the conscious members of the team to drop what they were carrying to help him. So far, it’d been quiet, and Weber had ranged almost twenty yards ahead of them.

“Probably not a good sign he ain’t woke up yet,” Tunstall muttered as Bruno was forced to stop and adjust once again.

Bruno grimaced slightly, the lines in his face deepening. “No, probably not,” he conceded with a glance at Graves’ slack face, “but isn’t much we can do about it here.”

It was Tunstall’s turn to nod, a shallow dip of his chin acknowledging the point. They’d bandaged up Graves’ head as best they could, packing the cut where it’d been bashed against an unfortunately-placed tree branch so at least he wasn’t bleeding all over the place, but there just wasn’t anything any of them could do about any internal bleeding. Once Weber had verified that none of Graves’ bones felt broken, Bruno had volunteered to carry him out and Tunstall had made the call on their gear. That had been nearly three hours ago, when they’d accidentally encountered a VC ambush on their way to their extraction point.

Neither side had been prepared to see the other, but Bruno’s team had been expecting trouble and had managed to get the first shots off. They’d have gotten away relatively clean if one of the VC hadn’t managed to set off what in hindsight was some sort of makeshift grenade; Graves had been thrown clear and hit his head on a tree mid-flight, which still put him several up on the VC in question who’d managed to pulp himself with the blast.

“Think he’ll have a better personality when he wakes up?” asked Tunstall with strained humor as they continued walking. 

Bruno snorted and shook his head. “Better hope not. Better hope he asks for a medal for his ‘boo-boo.’” Radical personality shifts after getting hit in the head weren’t that uncommon - Bruno knew a couple of guys it’d happened to back in his Marine unit - but they were bad news. It was roulette as to what kind of personality they’d end up with afterwards, and half the time they’d drop dead anyway 'cause it’d scrambled their eggs too hard. Graves was a bastard, but he was their bastard and Bruno would rather have him back to cover his six than some FNG who’d need breaking in.

It was Tunstall’s turn to snort. “Maybe if it’d happened a couple hundred miles further East,” he said, dryly indicating the Cambodian landscape around them. “As it stands, I don’t think it’ll even make a footnote in a report.”

Bruno dipped his head to acknowledge the point, and paused again to adjust the awkward burden of Graves’ body. “Think we’ll see any more trouble?” Bruno asked, nodding in the direction he’d last seen Weber.

Tunstall shook his head. “Frankly, I’m surprised we even saw that group back there. We left the Chinese contingent scattered from here to the Ba Na Hills; if they pull themselves together before monsoon season, I’d be impressed.”

Bruno nodded, and both resumed a watchful quiet for the long trek to extraction.


End file.
